Storm Breaks
by ManderKitteh
Summary: he wondered if he would survive this - ever see the light of day again - or if he would be shipwrecked, water filling his lungs, body to be forever lost at sea xxxxxxxx A Captain Swan oneshot. Takes place after the events of 5A, once Emma and Hook return from the Underworld. CS fluff.


A bang. A flash. Another bang. Bang. Bang. Another flash.

The sound of thunder was overwhelming - it was all he could hear. That and heavy rainfall splashing against the roof and windows. His eyes were open - he knew his eyes were open - but he could not see a thing. It was pitch black, and he tossed and turned, trying to escape the noise. He slammed his eyes shut, blotches of bright light dancing on his eyelids, and tumbled onto the floor.

It was cold and unstable, constantly swaying beneath the weight of him. It twisted and turned like waves in the sea, and he gasped for air trying to steady himself.

The sounds were getting louder, thunderous claps echoing in his head. He could feel the floor moving beneath him as he crawled into a corner. He opened his eyes once more. Vision blurry, spinning aggressively, he gasped for air as another stroke of lighting illuminated the sky. He pressed his back against the wall and pulled his legs tightly to his chest, holding on for dear life.

He let out a strangled gasp as another bang filled the air above him. Heart pounding in his chest, he wondered if he would survive this - ever see the light of day again - or if he would be shipwrecked, water filling his lungs, his body to be forever lost at sea.

The swaying slowly stopped, and the floor beneath him settled. He tilted his head back, staring up to the black ceiling. Still, he could barely make out the shapes of the room around him. His breathing evened out when suddenly another bang startled him. His right hand and left arm quickly found his ears, and he tried to block out the violent sounds. The bangs turned to claps and arrived more frequently. Soon he was burning up, sweat dripping from every inch of his shivering body, as the claps turned to crackling of fire. It grew hotter and brighter, surrounding his very soul, burning at his flesh and mind and he cried out desperately for it to stop.

The black of his vision faded quickly to a bright white. Behind his closed eyelids he could see flashes of yellow and gold and orange. He rocked forward, breathing heavily, the fire licking at his limbs, searing the scars on his skin when suddenly -

"Killian!"

He did not understand. Surely there were no angels where he was. On the deck of the Jolly Roger, facing the most violent of tempests, or the deepest level of hell there could not be a voice so celestial and lovely.

"Killian, oh my god." The voice said again, louder this time, closer.

He opened his eyes to the darkness of the room, now dimly lit by a small lamp several feet away. He blinked back tears as his eyes frantically searched the scene for the fire, but he could not find it. Instead, in front of him rested the silhouette of the angel.

Her hand reached out to caress his face and he had never felt a touch more enchanting.

"Killian, it's me, Emma. It's okay. You're okay."

His eyes focused on the woman in front of him. He could feel the sweat seeping through his clothes as he willed himself to slow his breathing.

She spoke again, her voice a soft whisper, "You're okay. I'm here."

He inhaled slowly. Letting his head fall back against the wall behind him, he exhaled. His eyes were adjusting to the darkened room. He could see her clearly now, the concern etched into the lines on her face, as she tilted her head and smiled.

"Emma..." He said, barely audible above the pounding of the rain on the roof.

"Hey," she replied. Her left hand found his right, and she entwined her fingers in his. She held on tightly, her other hand cupping his cheek, thumb slowly stroking the stubble on his face.

"Where - what - where am I? Where are we?" He asked, stumbling over his words.

"We're in Storybrooke, Killian. We're home." She watched as a wave of relief washed over him, instantly calming the frightened pirate.

Right. Storybrooke.

The memories came flooding back now. A sea of dark cloaks surrounding them. Emma, his beautiful Emma, being choked by one of the hooded figures. The rage. Fight back! Her tears. I don't want to lose you. Excalibur. A fire in his chest. A fire in his throat. Darkness, then fire all around him. I will find you. I will always find you.

She did.

She found him. She saved him.

"Swan," he cried, releasing her hand and pulling her into a tight embrace. She responded by wrapping her arms around him. His hand found her hair and he threaded his fingers through the delicate golden strands. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and he could feel each and every breath she took hot against his skin. He felt her body begin to tremble.

She pulled away to look into his eyes and placed her hands on his chest, reveling in the rhythmic rise and fall. She smiled again, and leaned forward, resting her forehead on his, their noses barely touching. He would stay like this for hours, if she'd let him.

xxxxxxxxxx

They sat together for what felt like an eternity, as the sun was finally rising outside the window. Killian could not recall when the thunder and lighting ceased, but he was grateful that they did.

He was grateful for so many things. For the chance to live another day on this Earth, for the chance to see his brother one more time before he returned, but mostly, for the woman that sat beside him. The woman that believed in him and cared for him. The woman that after everything he had said and done, had fought tooth and nail to bring him home. The woman that was his home.

She shifted beside him, stretching her legs out in front of them. A yawn escaped her lips as she slowly got to her feet. She reached a hand down, helping Killian up from the floor, and said, "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

He nodded and followed her downstairs to the kitchen, never once letting go of her hand. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, reflecting sharply off the granite countertops. Killian finally released her and took a seat at their small kitchen table. Emma cracked several eggs into a frying pan, then pulled two glasses out of a cabinet above her head. She filled them with ice water and brought them to the table. Killian smiled in thanks, and she returned to the stove to finish their eggs.

She joined him at the table and they ate in silence. Every time Killian glanced up, Emma was already looking at him.

"I'm fine, love, really." He said, "now stop staring and eat before your eggs get cold."

She chuckled and reached out, resting her hand on his forearm. The other found her fork and began shoveling eggs into her mouth. When their plates were empty Emma cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and then resumed her position next to Killian at the table.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and he smiled.

"Thank you," he said. For saving him. For loving him. For kissing him. For holding him in the dead of the night as he screamed at the monsters in his head.

"Always," she replied.

His eyes began to tear again, but his voice did not falter, "I'm so sorry, Emma."

"Wha-"

"I'm sorry for everything. For what I said to you that day, all the days before that, and for what I made you do," he interrupted. "I'm so very sorry that I wasn't strong enough."

"Killian," she said. His name was like a song from her lips and he wished she would never stop singing it. "Don't apologize. It was my fault. I did this. I couldn't let you go," she said, sniffling between words. "If I was able to this would have never happened. But you know what? I don't care. I don't care that I fucked up. Because I love you, Killian. And that does not make me weak. It does not make us weak. It makes us-"

"Strong," he finished.

She smiled as a tear slid down her face. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and cupped her cheek. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against hers softly, and her eyes fluttered closed.

She leaned into the kiss, grasping his shirt and pulling him closer. They separated momentarily, just long enough for him to breathlessly whisper "I love you, too" before their lips crashed together again. His mouth moved over hers hungrily as his hand snaked its way to the back of her head. She ran her fingers over the muscles of his sides as she deepened the kiss, lips parting, tongues connecting.

She tasted sweet and soft and God, so beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest so violently, in a way he had never felt before - not once in the many times he was lucky enough to kiss Emma Swan.

And her heart beat the same, the thudding so synchronized, the rhythm so coincident.

Emma placed her hand over his heart, slowly moving her lips over his, as tears slid freely down her cheeks. She finally pulled away, and they both tried to catch their breath.

She smiled, and he smiled back. Pulsing beneath her fingertips, she could truly feel it. Her other half.


End file.
